It was an adrenaline rush to write every word, from the moment Harres burst in to save Talia, to every moment of their journey back to safety as peril and passion rose to unmanageable levels. Not one taking place in Zohayd’s palaces among luxury and man-made grandeur, with the only threats being the insidious royal conspiracies and political intrigue, but one out there in the desert, where nature is the ultimate enchantment and enemy, and where constant danger to the hero’s and heroine’s lives and hearts is omnipresent. I can’t tell you how I much I loved writing Harres and Talia’s story. Now that he’d told her who he was, nothing could ever be the same. Now it would end, the spontaneity of the attraction that had exploded into life between them. Harres nodded, already acutely sorry that he’d told her. Then she finally rasped, “You’re an Aal Shalaan?” He stared down at her, all his being rioting, needing her back against him, her lips crushed beneath his, her heat enveloping his suddenly chilled body. “I Don’t Know Your Name… Let Alone What It Means…”
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